


Mine

by kissthestars89



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol references, Bedtime Stories, Comfort, Forbidden Love, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Married Couple, Parent-Child Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Russian Folklore, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 02:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12496256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissthestars89/pseuds/kissthestars89
Summary: The Jones-Braginski household is once again plagued by thunderstorms, and Alexei rushes to his parents' bedside in tears. But Ivan knows just the cure!





	Mine

A loud roar tore through the sky, followed by blinding white flashes in quick succession. It was yet another summer night storm rolling in over the vast plains of central Oklahoma, its strong winds battering the walls of their home as it made way through the small town. Within the master bedroom of their Victorian-style home, soft yet inaudible words rolled off Ivan’s tongue as he turned another page of his novel, the light from the nightstand emanating the room with a faint yellow glow. The light was dim enough to sneak in a few lines before closing his eyes. As more rumbling shook the house's foundation, he peered over to a passed out Alfred, who successfully managed to tangle himself in the sheets, the thin white linen taut around his hips. His limbs sprawled out ungracefully and his shirt was raised just enough to reveal a sliver of tanned skin.

His snoring husband was a mess — a buffoon, of all things! Yet, Ivan was partially to blame, for he finally succumbed to Alfred's incessant begging to invite over his long-time (and Japanese) friend. And those big, pleading eyes — those fantastic, mesmerizing bright blues he could never ignore — led to a swift "yes" from the Russian. Any one of Alfred's houses always fell prey to the duo's nightly adventures of binge video-gaming and Alfred's severe case of the munchies. Various cans and wrappers littered the floor the next morning, leaving more work for Ivan. As much as Ivan did not mind duties around the house, which mostly involved cleaning up Alfred's messes, times were different now, and neither of them was the bachelor they used to be.

But that didn’t stop lightweight Alfred from indulging in some sake. Well, more than some... A LOT.

Nonetheless, to his surprise, Alfred joined him in bed a whole hour earlier than usual. And Ivan never raised his eyes from the book cradled in his hands. He knew better than to ask for mundane things such as a goodnight kiss after a "Bro-nite," only making that mistake once before his request was answered with a stern middle finger from the American.

_BANG!_

Another violent crack bounced off the bedroom walls, evoking a high-pitched wail down the hall, distinctively a child's. 

“Mamaaaaaa!!”

Not a second passed before the pitter-patter of small, tiny feet echoed in the hallway. Ivan instinctively threw the novel down and turned to wake Alfred only to be answered by a terrible snore. It was too tempting to pull out the pipe on him, but not tonight. He was in no mood to care for Alfred as well, and violence was strictly prohibited in front of the child.

Their trembling, wide-eyed baby boy clung to the paneling of their bedroom door, the corners of those deep, indigo eyes filling with big, fat tears — some traveling their way down his pale cheeks. He hugged a ragged stuffed bunny rabbit against his chest as if to shield himself from some imminent danger.

“M-mama,” he hiccuped.

“Alexei,” Ivan’s expression softened. He almost had forgotten how fearful his son was of storms. And this summer, especially with how humid and hot it has been at Alfred's place, every night had at least one. He was very thankful to his boss that gave him permission to be with the boy a whole unprecedented two months.

“Little one,” Ivan whispered in his native tongue, patting the area beside his hip between him and his comatose father. “Come here. I’ve got you.”

After a cautious pause, Alexei nodded in response and rushed to the side of the bed, finding some difficulty in throwing himself upon it. Ivan guided the young tot with a soft hand against his side, careful to keep him from Alfred’s wide strike zone. And, speaking of which, the more Ivan studied that disgraceful wide and opened mouth, the more disgusted he became. It was a surprise that no flies flew in there!

Once they were settled, Ivan parted his son’s light blonde strands, paying mind to that pesky little cowlick, and rested his chin on his head to bring him into an embrace. Poor thing, their child was visibly shaken from the barrage of rain hitting the siding, now spraying onto the bedroom windows with impressive velocity. The Russian pulled away and wiped a few vagrant tears with his thumb, and smiled when the boy answered with a sniffle. Alexei was subdued by the large man’s warm and protective touch as if the storm instantly faded away by his command.

But the calming effect of his touch would not last the whole night and through the storm. Being the fabulous planner he was, Ivan was always prepared for such turbulent times. After all, he wasn't called "Mama" for nothing! As the Russian reached behind him and under his pillow for his surprise, Alexei idly chewed the side of the stuffed animal’s floppy ear, a newly found habit whenever he felt anxious. His eyes grew wide when he saw a familiar character — a yellow duck dancing among several painted eggs in the grass — painted on the face of the book. It was his favorite, _Vesenniy sbornik skazok_ (“ _Springtime Storybook_ ”), a rather thick compilation of short folktales from Ivan’s Soviet years. It looked rather tattered and well used, but its older chapters had been a popular item within Ivan's family for years. It was the same book he often read excerpts from to his dear sister Natalya.

“Duckie!!” Alexei reached for the book, desperately clawing at the air in an attempt to pet the smiling animal gracing its cover. He was not even close.

“Ah!” Ivan tsked at his impatience and greediness, traits definitely NOT inherited from him! “Just a second!” He fumbled the text in his hands, resting it against the book he was occupied with just moments before. As Ivan exposed the spine of a much wider book and skimmed through the pages, he finally reached the table of contents. He eyed the list written in his mother tongue while managing to block out the sudden fit of laughter beside him. Alexei found amusement in watching his comatose American father flinch as he jabbed a stubby finger into the fleshy part of his cheek. Thankfully, the child was so entertained that he paid no mind to another bright flash that once again brightened up the room.

Ivan adjusted his reading glasses. “A-ha! Here we go! One of my favorites.”

Alexei blinked, seizing his antics.

“ _Silver Hoof_ ,” The Russian sang sweetly with a twirl of his pointer finger. “Listen closely. I might just quiz you at the end, okay?”

Alexei nodded in response and prepared himself for one of his most favorite nighttime rituals, solely kept by Ivan, who stressed the importance of early childhood education and daily exposure to both languages. Of course, it was more enriching than planting the boy in front of the TV and subjecting him to a talking sponge and his starfish pal.

“Once upon a time, there was a young orphan named Daria,” He started cautiously, letting the words roll off his tongue, gently, and flowing from English to Russian occasionally. The boy watched him in wonder, his little Peter Rabbit falling limp against his elbow. 

“And she lived with a tradesman and his family for some time, along with her little kitten. But the family thought the kitten was bad and said he scratched their son, so they both had to leave. That was no good.”

“Mama,” Alexei jumped up. “Can we have kitty?”

“W-well, you see… ah, don’t worry, little one. The kitten already had a new home. A super-duper kind and responsible man adopted both of them. His name was Kokovanya, a hunter who lived all by himself!”

Alexei’s lower lip protruded into a sour pout, effectively sulking and crossing his arms. Ivan noticed this and wrapped his free arm around him to pull him closer. “At night, Kokovanya told Daria many bedtime stories, just like we are doing now. But there was one story she loved the most: Silver Hoof.”

“Hhuuf,” Alexei cooed quietly, mimicking the movements of his lips with slight difficulty.

“Yes, yes. ‘Hoof!’” Ivan chuckled and rewarded him with a pat on the shoulder. “Such a smart little boy.” 

Ivan adjusted the book against his thighs before resuming the story..

“Mmmmmm, yeah... I-ma cover you in my Heinz 57, head to toe.” The tangled blonde beside them grumbled, a pool of drool forming on his pillow. Ivan almost forgot he was even there. It was anyone’s guess as to what strange fantasy was playing in that small head of his.

“Kolkolkol—”

Ivan had great reflexes. He whacked the top of his head with the book’s spine, and the child let out a giggle. Alfred failed to respond, for he was still under the tight grip of alcohol, and turned onto his side to once again slip out of the bounds of a reality without specific ketchup fetishes.

Ivan shook his head before continuing. “—Now, Silver Hoof was a special goat who had large antlers and his right hoof was a brilliant silver. Whenever he stamped his foot, a shiny gem would appear! All his life, Kokovanya wanted this goat. And he and Daria set out to try to find Silver Hoof several times but were only able to find regular goats.”

Minutes passed in Ivan’s introduction, and Alexei's once terror-filled eyes were reduced to a cloudy, far-out gaze, his attention fixed on a spot on the wall across the room. “Mee-eeh” He whimpered sleepily, his attempt at a goat impression half-hearted as his long eyelashes fluttered.

“Exactly! You are such a smart boy!” Ivan beamed. “So one day, the hunter left for town to sell what they had from their hunt. It was a long and hard trip of five days. But when he returned, their house was covered in gems! Kokovanya only saw a glimpse of Silver Hoof disappearing from the roof along with Daria’s little kitten. They were gone, but the hunter managed to pick up a few gems and store it in his hat. When the two slept that night, they had the most wonderful dreams. No one ever saw Silver Hoof again, but the gems they found were just enough to let them live happily ever after!”

He closed the book with a satisfied hum, expecting a jubilant “The End!” from his son like clockwork, but his ears only met silence. Ivan peered over his arm to see the sweet boy fast asleep, his cheek pressing against his side and bangs covering his eyes. Ivan’s shirt was still slightly damp with residual tears. He carefully brushed away his rabbit’s ear from his son’s lips and smiled. So precious, so innocent and perfect, and his.

Someone with whom he had trouble sharing with another.

He’d been thinking about it for some time. His parliament constantly stressed for diplomacy, which made the Russian further bury his feelings. Raising a child under such strained circumstances was a challenge. Unfortunately, neither country planned nor cared much for lifelong relations, yet both agreed on keeping the child — and their marriage — a secret for the sake of their citizens. But Ivan fell in love instantly with the boy, as if he'd known that angelic face for eons, and it was hard to keep such a love a secret from the world. And how Ivan grew to despise relinquishing his only child from time to time to the Americans, for they could not take care of Alexei as well as him. The gentle giant would vehemently deny the tears that stung his eyes, yet his closest officials knew of his state of utter heartbreak; inconsolable and miserable, no matter how hard Natalya, Katyusha, or even the Baltics frantically tried to find a way to alleviate Ivan’s stress.

It was not like he hated the child's father. At least not anymore. In fact, some even congratulated him for picking such a young and viable companion, for a child with such great potential and strength would be a proper investment for his own land. Yet, for the centuries-old nation, Alexei's existence meant nothing of the sort. It was all a mystery of the universe as if the stars had it planned for him, ever since he was small himself — at a time where he was grappling for survival in the winter barrens and knew nothing of the world.

As the child slept, Ivan wondered when Alexei’s intelligence and strength would surpass his own, for he himself was aging and growing too old for dreams. His lovely amethyst gaze studied his son as he was now curled up against Alfred’s back. 

Perhaps he didn't mind sharing him just for tonight.

Ivan gathered his share of the comforter to drape it over the two, leaving himself bare, and planted a sweet kiss to the boy’s temple.

“ _Spokoynoy nochi_ , little one.”

He reached over to turn off the light and joined his small family in sleep, the last remnants of thunder rumbling in the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> I think about my dad, who used to rub my back and sing me to sleep with super-outdated tunes))
> 
> PS - The Russian tale told in this story may not be exactly accurate.


End file.
